To Choose A Dog Poem by Robert W.Quilter

'what man has bent o'er his son; s sleep to brood
how that face shall watch his when cold it lies?
or thought, as his own mother kissed his eyes,
of what her kiss was when his father wooed? '
dante gabriel rossetti.

i took Paul to coose a dog
the idea had come to mind when i became aware that
my work would make me less available
he didn't say a word and looked straight ahead
he had put on his safety belt and was twiddling methodically
with his hands
'come on now, don't be so nervous' i said to him

the kennels were about thirty-five minutes away from the
gutted supermarket
the closer we came the more Paul shrunk into his seat, like
some fearful old man
i watched him out of the corner of my eye, i felt as if i was driving him to his first romantic rendezvous

i did not know much about this side of him
about what had gone behind those walls
i had never brought up the subject with him
the trail had gone no further

i hoped that the dog was a good idea
starting was the riskiest part of the exercise and it required my full attention

a twenty-five kilo bag of dry dog food lay prominently on the backseat
my gift, top-of-the-line
the gates of the kennels appeared a few moments later and they were wide open.i pulled up in the parking area and suggested he get out, since no one was going to choose a dog for him

Paul stopped a little further way.he was sitting on his heels and was staring hard at the inside of a cage.
again i found it hard to imagine this boy inside, inside a cage.